


Sterek Christmas Tales

by redhoodedwolf



Series: Christmas Time [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, CHRISTMAS FLUFF YAAAAAAAY, I know it's late oh well, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoodedwolf/pseuds/redhoodedwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a compilation of the mini sterek fics I posted every day leading up to Christmas. 24 chapters (I did 2 in one day) of sterek, some AU, some not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot Cocoa

The door to the coffee shop broke open, letting in a burst of cold air and some scattered flurries. A disheveled man stumbled in, wrapped in a heavy coat and a scarf, and yet he still was shivering. He moved to a booth in the corner, rubbing his hands together and blowing warm breath on them to warm them up. 

A shadow crossed over his face and suddenly a cup of something steaming and warm was placed in front of him as well as a grumbled, “On the house.” The smell of cocoa wafted into the air and he made a sound of contentment before taking the cup gingerly into his hands and taking a sip, hardly paying mind to how it burned his tongue. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking up at the speaker of the voice. Who was apparently a tall man with frown lines permanently etched into his face, though a small smile stretched across his lips, bending the stubble that flecked over his jaw. 

“It’s my job,” he said, pointing to his name tag that shined with the name ‘Derek’. 

“Still, thank you, erm, Derek. I’m Stiles.”

“I know.”

That had Stiles taken a back and he looked up at the barista in confusion who seemed only more amused. 

“I live in the same apartment building, on the corner of 2nd and Greentree?”

A look of enlightenment crossed over Stiles’ face and he mumbled a small, “Oh…” before taking another sip of the warm drink. “Well, if you don’t have any plans next weekend, I’m having a small party with some of the others in the building and a few friends. You’re welcome to join us?”

Derek looked skeptical, eye shooting around the shop to scope out how busy it was, but besides the old couple at the counter, it had cleared out, mostly. 

“C’mon, where’s the holiday spirit! Plus, it’s the least I can do. I’ll make  _you_  some cocoa. So..?”

Stiles looked so hopeful, and Derek couldn’t help but melt a bit inside when he saw those eyes. It was no wonder he caved, but not before deeply sighing, as if resigned. “Sure, why not. 3F, right?”

Stiles nodded, a grin stretching across his features. “Awesome. Next Saturday at 6. I’ll see you there.”

Derek blinked, but the hyperactive man was already out the door, the cool air from outside the now closing door sending a shiver down his spine. Stiles had tossed a five on the table as a tip, and Derek snorted, but pocketed it none the less in the tip jar, as he returned back to work, a spring in his step where there didn’t used to be. 


	2. Caroling

” _No_.”

“Come on Derek! It’s a holiday tradition!”

“No, Stiles, I already told you, we’re not caroling!”

And yet, a week later, Derek found himself following a pack of teenagers through the streets of Beacon Hills, with Stiles leading the way. Jackson was at his side, guitar strapped around him, strumming as they walked, looking happier than Derek had seen him in a while.

Though he wasn’t cold, Stiles had insisted upon him wearing a scarf, so resting over his leather jacket was an old red and yellow Hogwarts scarf Stiles had found in his closet. 

At every house they stopped at, families gathered at the door to listen to their hardly on-tune singing. Derek stood behind them, neither opening his mouth, or looking like he enjoyed this at all. But if it deterred anyone, no one spoke up about it. 

Finally, after an hour and a half, they were finished. They all moved back to the abandoned warehouse where the werewolves were currently holed up in. Hot chocolate had been bought at a coffee place on the way back, so everyone sat with their significant other around the fire they built, snuggling together. 

Stiles pressed against Derek’s side, head lolled onto his shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but look at him fondly. 

“What?” Stiles mumbled, tiredly. 

“Nothing,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the teen’s forehead, “Just happy you’re here. All of you.”

A murmur of assent rose up between the group and Stiles smiled lazily. 

“Told ya caroling was a good idea.”

Derek snorted. “The caroling sucked, and you can’t sing.”

Stiles huffed in protest, but it was smothered by the press of Derek’s lips against his. He broke away, noses brushing against each others. “This. This is the good part.”


	3. Naughty or Nice

”But  _Daddy_ -!”

“No, Chase, you can’t. It’s not nice. No matter what someone does to you, you shouldn’t make they pay for what they said,” Stiles sighed as he dabbed a cotton ball damp with rubbing alcohol into the cut on the boy’s forehead, to which he winced at the sting. 

Derek nodded at his side, rocking their daughter back and forth in his arms, her baby fangs nipping at the finger he offered to her. “You wouldn’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list, would you?”

Chase’s eyes went wide and bright, and he shook his head so fast his cut began to bleed again. Stiles sighed, wiping it clean again before pressing a bandage on it. “Your father is right. If you hurt Mason because he called you a mean name, you will be on the naughty list. And all you’ll get is coal for Christmas. Is that what you want?”

Chase sighed, collapsing against the stool in the bathroom they were currently occupying. “I s’pose not.”

Stiles smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “That’s my boy. Now go set the table for dinner.”

Chase raced out of the room, and his baby sister waddled after him, giggling with each step. Stiles and Derek watched after them with fond looks mirroring on their faces. 

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Stiles said, breaking the silence, per usual, “But I think I made the nice list this year.”

Derek leaned over and pecked a kiss on his husband’s cheek, nuzzling his nose into the place behind his ear, taking in Stiles’ scent that he never got tired of. 

“Your dad has the kids for the weekend after new years. Then we can enjoy the nice list privileges.”

Stiles shuddered and stared after Derek who sauntered away back to the kitchen to finish up dinner, wondering when everything started going right.


	4. Candy Canes

Stiles had had it up to here with Erica and her weird pregnancy Christmas cravings. This was the third time he had been sent out to the store for candy canes in the last week. Boyd would just laugh as he grumbled and stalked to his Jeep, aiding to his wife with anything she needed. 

Thankfully, Derek had decided to tag along, so Stiles wasn’t as bored. 

Unfortunately, being in an enclosed space with a werewolf with whom you’ve been in love with for almost three years and the only thing intimate between you was the one time fuck that stole Stiles’ virginity and saved Derek from dying of wolfsbane. Yeah. It’s a problem. 

 _Fucking hunters._  

He and Derek were cool now, though, no hard feelings, it had been over a year ago, so Stiles was over it. Kinda. 

Stiles directed Derek over to the row he had been in far too often during the holiday season, and took five boxes of assorted colored and flavored candy canes and tossed them into the cart. 

“What else did she ask for?” he asked Derek, keeper of the list.

Derek fished said list out of his pocket and sighed. “Graham crackers, Nutella, and…” Derek squinted, “I have no idea what this says,” he mumbled, list head up close to his face, as if that would help.  

Stiles groaned, “Here, let me see,” and leaned over to look at the list. He squinted at the messy scrawl. “I think it says pancake batter, but I could be wr…”

Stiles’ words dragged off into silence, because as he spoke he turned to look at Derek and found himself much closer than he originally was, and Derek was wearing this look of pure longing. Stiles swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Can you two take your sexual tension elsewhere? This is a family isle, and you’re contaminating it with hormones.”

The two jumped apart to stare at Chris Argent who had stopped his cart right in front of them, looking at them, unamused, with a raised eyebrow. 

Derek growled, a noise that sent a shiver up his spine and gritted out, grabbing a hold of Stiles’ hand, “I plan to.”

With that, he tugged Stiles away, and they both power walked out of the store. 

Stiles was inanely confused, but totally aroused. “But, what about Erica-“

“She can get her own damned food,” Derek replied, looking at Stiles in a way only classified as true hunger. Stiles nodded frantically. 

“Okay, okay, yeah, sounds good.”

But then Derek pushed him against his Jeep and there was no need for words anymore. 

Somewhere in the middle of the supermarket, Chris Argent is smirking. 


	5. Sweaters and Scarves

It didn’t matter to Laura that they were werewolves and had plenty of body heat, she made them go out and buy new hats and coats and scarves and gloves and everything they didn’t need for the upcoming holiday season. 

She pushed Derek into the small boutique in their home town of Beacon Hills as he grumbled about useless mittens. She sighed and positioned him in front of a rack of scarves. 

“C’mon Derek, it’s the Christmas season! You have to have a scarf. Plus, you’ll look good in one,” she promised. 

His glare was enough of an ‘okay’ for her, as she moved over to the sweater rack. Derek sighed and began looking through the various colors and threads they had to offer. 

“Hi! Welcome to Jane’s! Can I help you pick something out?”

Derek stared at the employee who looked back at him with a bright smile, a Santa hat tilted on his head. His name tag said ‘Stiles’ and Derek raised his eyebrow at that. Still, after a moment, he said, “No,” he tensely added, “Thank you.”

Stiles went on as if he had said nothing, looking at the scarves himself. “We’ve got some nice ones here, though I’m sure you could pull them all off.”

Stiles looked back at Derek. “Maybe a green?” he mused to himself. “No, a white I think. It’ll go with your jacket, and it pulls attention to the stubble you’re sporting. Every passerby will be swooning, and it’ll be all thanks to me, no need to thank me though, that’s my job.”

Derek blinked. “Uh. Sure,” he muttered, stepping aside so Stiles could find the one he was searching for. A muffled, “Aha!” sounded a moment later, and Derek was impressed because it did look exactly like something he would wear. 

“Thanks, this is nice.”

Stiles made a ‘tsk’ noise and waggled his finger back and forth in Derek’s face. “Ah! I said no thank you’s. Though, I do take phone numbers.”

Stiles held out his hand expectantly and Derek stared at it for a moment. He could hear Laura giggling on the other side of the store, but he paid her no mind. 

He stared at Stiles, taking in the warm caramel brown of his eyes, the youth in his face, He was probably still in high school, he thought. 

Stiles seemed to be regretting his decision. He was pulling his hand back and said, “Or not, that’s totally cool, I’m used to-“

Derek took Stiles’ hand in his hand shook it once. Stiles’ eyes snapped up to meet his in surprise. “I’m Derek,” he said, and smirked. 

Stiles honest to God grinned and laughed loudly, earning some odd looks. 

“‘M Stiles,” he said in reply and Derek grabbed the scarf from his hands.

“It’s perfect. How much?”

“Only a few digits.”

“I think I can spare a few.” 


	6. Ice Skating

Derek was an ice skating champion. Stiles was his cousin’s best friend. Once, said best friend discovered the champion, and it was all down hill from there.

So of course he went to Lydia.

“You have to catch his attention,” she said, tying the laces of her skates. “One way is to get really good at skating. Not like, Olympic, like him, but better than anyone else at the rink he works at. Then he’ll snap you up,” she said confidently, jumping down from her stool and, grabbing Stiles’ arm, dragged him towards the secluded rink.

Stiles eyed her warily. “I don’t know Lydia, are you s-?”

“Stiles, have I ever steered you wrong?” he asked seriously, stopping to give him her best bitch face. He sighed and shook his head.

“No, Ms. Martin.”

Lydia grinned. “Good, now, thank God I’m not working with a hopeless case and you have gone skating before.”

Stiles snorted. “As I remember correctly, the last time we were here, I skated circles around you.”

“Yeah, then I took lessons and beat your sorry ass.”

Stiles grinned.

“Now,” she grabbed his arms, pulling him along. I’m going to be your much prettier mirror image,” Stiles protested at that but she held up a hand to silence him. “Follow my lead.”

For an hour and a half she taught him everything she knew, and he caught on surprisingly fast (although,maybe not that surprising considering the pot of gold at the end of the gay rainbow Stiles lived under).  

The next week, they practiced again. Afterwards, Lydia was confident in Stiles’ abilities. That weekend, the duo plus Scott, the cousin, and his girlfriend, Allison, came with them to the rink during Derek’s teaching hours. 

The latter three took to the ice quickly while Stiles paid (it was his treat for pulling them into this whole mess). When he joined them, finally, he glided onto the ice smoothly. 

Derek Hale, retired Olympic champion, current owner of Hale’s Ice Rink in his hometown of Beacon Hills, was helping a small girl, maybe seven of age with the name Erica get from one cone to the other, when a blur of red passed his vision and he looked up with a curved eyebrow raised. 

His eyes fell on a tall yet gangling boy who looked like he would have no balance what so ever, yet he was riding the ice as if he lived on it. Derek couldn’t say he’d seen him before, maybe in passing, maybe from when he was younger, living in the giant house in the woods. 

He had to admit, he was slightly impressed. The way he circled around his assumed friends with an easy grin on his face wasn’t spectacular in the least, but Derek envied the happiness and grace that seemed to come naturally to him. 

His class ended not long after, and he would usually do a few laps around the rink before retiring for some food. So he stopped and talked to a few regulars, some of the kids that stayed behind from his class. 

Finally, he pulled up to the group of four huddled against the wall and gave them a small smile. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asked, eyes lingering on the red coat- wearing boy. 

They both nodded, and the redhead elbowed the boy in question, to which he shot her a glare, then smiled at Derek. 

“Dude, I’m offended,” the one boy said, who had previously been making out with his girlfriend next to the other two, “Can’t even remember your favorite cousin?”

Derek smirked. “Of course, Scott. Though with your face smashed against the glass. Seriously, when did you gain balance?”

The brunette girl next to him held up the arm she had linked with his. “I’m his anchor,” he said in way of explaining. 

“For more than just that,” Red-Coat said, smirking. Derek scoffed as Scott shot him a glare, and he held his arms up in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“You implied it.”

“Yes, yes I did,” he said proudly. 

Derek laughed, gaining the boy’s attention. “I was just going to get some food. You and your friends can join me?” he suggested, nodding over to the small cafe station they have in the back. 

Scott looked over at his companions who all shrugged and said, “Sure, sounds great.

He and Allison waddled (well, more like just him) towards the exit of the ice, the other girl coming up behind him, twirling in a way that made him think she was much better than she let on, just look at her _form_ -

“That’s Lydia, she’s good isn’t she?” a voice came from his left. He looked over at Red-Coat who grinned. Derek shrugged. 

“You’re not so bad yourself…?”

“Stiles,” he supplied. “And the leech-ie for Scott is Allison. She’s good for him.”

“What about you? Is Lydia your-?”

Stiles stepped off of the ice and almost stumbled over the threshold onto the carpet. “What? No, please, like Lydia would ever, ha  _no_.” Derek raised an eyebrow, stepping smoothly off the ice. “Lydia has Jackson. He’s just a douche and didn’t want to come skate. It’s his loss, I think, this place is awesome.”

“Thank you,” Derek said with a nod. “I’m proud of it.”

“As you should be,” Stiles responded, slipping off his skates and handing them back to the guy working the rentals. Derek kept his on. Over the years, they had become almost as fond to him as a regular pair of trainers. Though it did give him some excess height over Stiles, to which he rolled his eyes at. Derek grinned back.

At the table, menu shoved up to her face, eyes peaking over the top as she watched the scene unfold in front of her, Lydia was giggling. 


	7. Shiver

The wind outside was picking up, and Stiles had a large coat on over top of basically three other shirts. And yet he still didn’t seem warm enough. His teeth chattered as he sat on the steps of the Hale house, shudders running through his body as he watched the pack train. 

For Derek, it was really distracting. 

After (again) pinning Jackson to the frost covered forest floor, he decided to let Jackson blow off some steam and pair off with Scott while Isaac took Boyd. Erica and Lydia had been talking the entire time, and Derek was tempted to interrupt and get Erica working, but she seemed like she really needed Lydia’s advice, so Derek left it alone, for now. 

Derek walked over at sat down next to Stiles, glaring at him. “Stop,” he ordered.

Stiles looked up at him abashed and confused. “What? W-what did I do?”

Derek growled and pushed against his shoulder. “Stop. Shivering.”

Almost as if it were caused by his command, Stiles felt a shiver run up his spine once again, but he didn’t think it was from the cold that time. 

“C-can’t,” he stuttered out.

Derek sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him flush against his side. He ran his hand up and down his arm, causing goosebumps to rise up on the skin. “Better?” he asked.

Stiles nodded jerkily. “Yep, yes, uh, much better. Um. Thanks.”

Derek shrugged and turned his attention back on his betas. 

Stiles stared at Derek for a moment more, wondering why he was doing what he was doing. When did Derek start to care so much? And when did Stiles begin to like that?

Shaking his head minutely to remove that thought track, he turned back to watch as well, smirking as Scott got pushed into a tree and almost tripped over Boyd who was sprawled on the ground a few feet away. He silently shook with laughter.

Derek smiled. 


	8. Snowball Fight

When Stiles awoke on Saturday morning to snow blanketing his front lawn, his grin almost broke his face. 

He called Scott almost immediately, pulling pants on over top of his boxers, and trying not to trip as he called him on speed dial. “Dude,  _snow_. Snowball fight, my lawn, twenty minutes. Round up the dogs.”

He hung up, not waiting for a response, knowing Scott would be just as excited as he was. He ran around his bedroom, layering himself in three shirts and a hoodie plus under armor and jeans. He grabbed his earmuffs and gloves as he stumbled out the door.

Right into a solid mass of person. 

Stiles jumped back, an apology on his tongue, until he noticed it was Derek, only in his leather and henley and jeans and boots, Stiles took notice. “Dude, creeper.”

Derek rolled his eyes and nodded towards the front lawn where Scott and Isaac were already molding forts. Stiles smiled at that and ran to join Scott. Derek scoffed and chose to watch. 

Erica and Boyd trickled in a few minutes later, loading up on snow ammo. Even Lydia, Allison, and Jackson showed up, dressed warmly, scarves and everything. 

Stiles called fire, and all hell broke loose. 

The werewolves went for the humans, all except Jackson who was used as a human (read:werewolf) shield for Lydia. Isaac was laughing as he tripped back into the crudely made fort and Scott pouted until he was smacked in the face with snow via Allison who covered a mitten-clad hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles at the angry yet amused look that sprouted across Scott’s face. 

Stiles ducked behind Isaac’s surprisingly still standing fort from the surprise attack of Danny whom had jumped aboard Jackson’s shoulders and was pelting people with snowballs. Stiles wasn’t sure who gave him an invite, but he was delighted all the same. 

Suddenly, Stiles was encased in warmth, and breath fell across his ear in the form of a whispered, “ _Boo_.”

Stiles hardly had time to enjoy the sensation before he was smacked with snow and fell back against his barrier  When he finally opened his eyes, sputtering, cheeks flushed in mixed embarrassment and arousal, it was Derek standing over him, hands shoved in pockets, smirking. 

“Oh, it’s on,” Stiles growled, going for the legs, knocking Derek to the ground as he lost his balance. Stiles scrambled up the alpha’s body to straddle his hips, shouting out in triumph, smushing snow back in Derek’s face in retaliation. 

Derek glared at him and to Stiles it seemed like he was about to either throw him across the lawn or kiss him, and though he was leaning towards the latter, neither happened. 

Erica’s shout of, “Puppy pile!” had the whole pack descending upon the pair in a mass of limbs and uncomfortable groans of pain. 

Stiles was plastered against Derek’s chest by Danny’s elbow and he huffed in annoyance. “Dammit Derek, control your betas.”

Though he couldn’t see, Stiles imagined him rolling his eyes and smirking. “I try.”

The rumble of his words reverberated through his chest, and Stiles could feel it against his cheek, making his face heat up even more. 

All in all, it was a pretty awesome snow day. 


	9. Mistletoe

Lydia was one stubborn woman. 

That’s it. That’s the story. 

Because as Lydia, being the stubborn woman she is, insisted upon following up on the traditions of Christmas, such as decorating a tree and the house. And as much as everyone begged her not to, she put up mistletoe anyway. 

Derek was out of town at the time, leaving the rest of the pack to decorate for Christmas. They were completely unaware that the mistletoe picked to hang above the entryway into the kitchen was actually a rare form of wolfsbane that was identical to the kissing branch. 

When Derek arrived back at his home, he rolled his eyes at the lights strung up everywhere, as well as the garland and mistletoe. The pack had gone home for the evening, with a note taped to the television saying they would be back the next afternoon to decorate the large tree in the living room with their alpha. 

Before heading up to his room for the evening, Derek stopped in the kitchen for a quick bite of something to eat. Suddenly as he entered the room, however, a particular smell overcame him, One that smelled sweet, and natural, and rather familiar. He stared up at the garland over his head and sniffed the air once more.

The scent overcame him and he stumbled backward, almost choking on how pungent it was. His eyes widened then glowed its bright red. Every sense of his was trained on that scent and he needed more of it. He bolted from the house and through the woods, heading for the street. He ran for miles, his senses urging him forward until he stopped in front of a house. Stiles’ house. 

 _That’s why the scent was so familiar, it must have been the teenager’s_ , his mind supplied. But he wasn’t thinking much as he scaled the house and jumped through the boy’s bedroom window. 

Stiles was sound asleep, curled up in bed with a content smile stretched across his face. Derek suddenly wanted that, to be smiling, with Stiles. As slowly and quietly as his drugged state could move, he walked over to the empty side of the bed and crawled in. It was a tight fit, but Derek soon snuggled in as the big spoon to Stiles’ little. Stiles paid no mind as he shifted, turning into Derek’s chest and burrowing into the heat he emitted. 

Derek smiled, wrapping his arms around the teen and pulling him close. Soon enough, he was nodding off, with the thoughts of kissing him when he awoke. 

* * *

When Stiles woke up the next morning, Derek’s lips were on his. And to his surprise, he was already kissing back, purely from instinct or another force, he wasn’t sure. As soon as he realized however, he flailed back, falling off of the bed with a loud thump and a groan of pain. Derek reached a hand down and pulled him back up onto the bed, only to start kissing him again with renewed vigor. 

“As much- as I l- like this- Derek- Derek s- stop!” Stiles said between fevered kisses, pushing at Derek’s shoulders. Derek finally let go, giving Stiles a wounded look. “Oh come on, don’t make me feel bad. Why are you in my bed?”

Derek looked at him confused before he shrugged. “Missed you. Got home yesterday and just really wanted to kiss you. My house smelled like you. I needed more. You smell good when I kiss you.”

Before Derek could get to him again, Stiles stood and backed away from the bed towards the door. “O- _kaaaay_. I’m going to call Deaton. Don’t go anywhere.”

Stiles rushed down the steps and into the kitchen where he almost tripped over the rug to grab the home phone. His dad looked up from his morning coffee with a raised brow. 

“Wanna tell me why there is a werewolf in your bed, Stiles?”

“No, not really!” he replied, punching numbers into the phone before holding it up to his ear. 

Mr. Stilinski rolled his eyes, setting down his cup and slipping on his jacket. “Yeah, well, didn’t think so. Just tell me next time you are having a cuddle fest overnight, kay?”

Stiles waved his hand, listing to the rings over the phone. His dad rolled his eyes before slipping out the front door to head to work. 

The doctor finally picked up at the fifth ring. 

“Stiles, this better be important, I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“Derek is kissing me,” he rushed out.

There was a pause, then, “Should I be happy for this update?”

Stiles growled in frustration. “No, you shouldn’t. It’s fucking terrible! I think he was drugged or something. He said, said-“

Stiles was cut off by a set of strong arms winding around his waist and a pair of lips trailing up his neck, hot breath hitting the shell of his ear. He shuddered. 

“Stiles?”

“Sorry, sorry, Derek has plastered himself to me. Dude, get off!” He shoved an elbow into Derek’s rib cage, but that only earned him a growled and a nip along his jaw. Stiles sighed, giving in. 

“He’s ravishing me. Can you check out his house to see if there was anything put there after we left?”

Stiles imagined Deaton nodding. “I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Stiles said in the way of a farewell. 

He hung up and put the phone back on it’s rack. “Derek?”

“Hm?”

“Put on some pants.”

* * *

Stiles somehow got Derek into his car with minimal damage done and drove them both to the Hale house. Stiles jumped out of the car before Derek, running practically into Deaton past the front door. Derek wasn’t far behind, moving up to Stiles to continue working on the hickey on the back side of his neck he hadn’t finished with on the ride over. 

Stiles had given up at this point.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Deaton looked at Derek with wide eyes sparkled with amusement before turning to Stiles and saying, “Yes, actually. I’d assume the plant above the kitchen was assumed to be mistletoe. It’s actually a rare form of wolfsbane only found in northern California that looks identical to mistletoe. Everything is the same, except it posses the qualities mistletoe stands for. Anyone with a sense of smell  and came close to the plant would have the urge to kiss the person they were interested in. For humans it is not much more than an idea that flees quickly. With werewolves…”

“Their senses are better so the effects last as long as they can smell it?” Stiles guessed, two seconds away from punching Derek right in the nose of he didn’t stop the butterfly kisses across his collarbone. 

Deaton nodded, holding the plant up for Stiles to see. Now that he could see it in front of him, Derek’s eyes snapped to it as well, his nostrils flaring. Stiles’ heart beat skyrocketed as the smell hit his nose and he really, really needed to kiss Derek right now.

“As soon as I remove of it in lieu of burning it, the scent should disappear and he’ll be back to himself in a minute or so.

Stiles could see Derek staring at him hungrily out of the corner of his eye and he swallowed thickly and nodded. “Get with it then.”

Deaton nodded and left the house heading towards the back yard where any bonfires or anything along those lines usually took place. Stiles sighed in relief.

It was short lived, however, when he was pushed against the wall by an alpha who was kissing him again, and screw it all, Stiles wound his arms around his neck and kissed back. 

A few minutes later had the pair in reversed position with Derek against the wall and Stiles rutting against his bent knee. He keened as Derek sucked and bit at the skin below his ear, moving back quickly to his lips.

“Stiles,” Derek panted when they separated, pupils blown wide in arousal. Stiles looked no better. 

“Are you- has it worn off?” Stile shad to ask, because he loved to torture himself, apparently. Derek nodded and Stiles sighed, moving to back away, but Derek kept him close. 

“The pack won’t be here for a few more hours. We should make the best of it,” he mumbled, face looking somewhat vulnerable. 

Stiles sputtered, “You actually want to-“

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes I want to, you idiot.”

Stiles breathed a sigh in relief, burring his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. “Think we could watch a movie instead?”

Derek smiled, actually smiled, and Stiles’ heart soared. “Perfect.”


	10. Snow Day

When Derek awoke to snow falling outside of his window, he groaned and buried himself deeper into his bedding, trying it vain to ignore the world around him. 

Unfortunately, twenty minutes later, when a snowball flew at his window, he jumped up and stared down at the culprit, eyes flashing. Isaac looked up at him, all bundled up for the cold, with an innocent expression. “Come down with us!” he said, grinning. 

Derek grumbled, but a small part of him flash backed to years with his family, they days they would spend lying in the snow and having fun. His heart ached, but he joined the teen outside. As he stepped off of the porch, three other cars pulled up, one right after the other. 

When Stiles exited his jeep with Scott in the passenger side, he launched himself at Derek and wrapped his arms around him, shivering, saying. “Make me warm, alpha.” Derek snorted. 

Their relationship was rather complicated. They weren’t dating, or screwing, but they were much, much more than just best friends. Only no kisses had been shared, just soft touches and gestures like this. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked as bored sounding as he could muster. 

“Snow day,” Stiles said, voice muffled against Derek’s shirt. Derek rolled his eyes and pried the senior off of him. 

“Person space, Stiles.”

Stiles scoffed, looking offended, but he laced his hand through Derek’s and tugged him across the yard, taking animatedly about this plan to make a snowman, saying Derek had to help. 

Boyd gave Derek a knowing look, and the alpha merely shrugged. If Stiles was ready for them to be more, that he would be more than happy to encompass his wants. if not, well, his urge to be with Stiles would be covered just as they were. As long as he didn’t screw it up. 

A few hours later found the pack, snowmen all built and looking like a makeshift fence across the front of the house, laying in the snow, making snow angels. 

Well, everyone but Derek. He chose to lay and watch the sky and chose his favorite design of snowflakes. Stiles soon sat down next to him, but Derek pulled him against him. Stiles shifted so he was between Derek’s legs, the werewolf’s warmth surrounding him. They both stared at the snowfall, smiling softly. 

Yeah, Derek thought, for now, this is enough. 


	11. Secret Santa

Usually Derek had Lydia to blame for her lame Christmas traditions, but since she was spending the holiday in London with Jackson and Allison and also, surprisingly, Scott and his mother along with Chris Argent, she was free from blame. 

Isaac, however, was not. 

Derek liked to think he liked Isaac best out of the three he bit. Not becuase he was the first, or even because he chose to stay instead of run like Erica and Boyd. Isaac cared, and reminded him of a cross between both of his late sisters. 

But now, yeah, not so much. 

Isaac had decided that the remaining members of the Hale Pack (co. Beacon Hills Werewolves) should participate in a Secret Santa. 

And Derek got Stiles. Stiles, who, beyond researching and lacrosse, he knew hardly any of his hobbies. 

Derek was forced to call up Scott, who responded to his call with a tired, “ _Whaaaaat?_ ” and oops, time change, Derek forgot. Oh well. 

“What does Stiles like?”

Derek heard the dial tone and growled, calling him again. This time, Scott picked up with a heavy sigh and the sound of rustling sheets. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stiles. What. Does. He. Like.”

There was a pause, then, “Why do you care?”

Derek was tempted to slam his head into the wall. “I need to get him a gift. What does he want?”

Derek could practically hear the shrug. “I dunno man. He’s into a lot of stuff, practically anything with a, what does he call it, fandom?”

“What.”

“That’s what I said!” Scott sighed. “Anyway man, I gotta go. Sleep and all.”

Before Derek could tell him off, he was cut off yet again, still without a gift in mind. 

He was resorted to searching Google. He found a website called esty.com that seemed to have many a thing about these “fandoms” Stiles liked. There was far too much there, and he still was at a loss. 

Derek was about to give up, until the last pack meeting for Christmas, Stiles stomped in, glaring at the floor. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Erica scoffed, raising a brow as she lounged against the couch. 

Stiles glared at her and collapsed into-  _hey_ , that’s  _my_  chair, Derek wanted to say. “Nothing, just…” he sighed. “My dad took up some shifts on Christmas day, so we won’t be able to open gifts and stuff until late that night. He’s breaking tradition!”

“Stiles, I know you, what kind of tradition could you uphold?”

“My  _mom’s_ ,” he said defensively, which had the entire pack shutting up and staring guiltily at their hands. Derek stared at Stiles in curiosity, but broke the silence by starting the meeting, talking about the dinner they planed to have at his house Christmas Eve. 

After the meeting, when everyone had left to their respective homes, Derek was stuck with an idea. He grabbed his supplies and set up in the dinning area where he pulled up what he wanted from Google (which, look at that, was actually good for something) and began to work.

On Christmas Eve, after everyone was stuffed and reclining on the furniture, they each pulled out their Secret Santa gifts and distributed them to their owners. 

Stiles went first, who had Isaac. He got him the complete Firefly series (burned DVD’s because Stiles had all of them and was kinda cheap but Isaac wasn’t complaining) which had Isaac grinning. Isaac had Boyd who he gave a book that apparently Boyd had been wanting for a while, and was treated to a kind smile. 

Boyd had Derek, and though Derek wasn’t over the moon about his gift, he still thought of it as a kind gesture when he unwrapped the box to find a nice new jacket. it wasn’t leather, but it was black, and was long enough to probably rest at high, thigh. He thanked him with a small smile. 

Erica got herself. No one was sure how that happened, she probably rigged it. But she now sported a nice watch, so no one really cared all that much. 

Stiles stared at Derek with a small smile and reached out a hand, making a grabbing motion. “Alright alpha, my turn.”

Derek hesitantly handed over the package wrapped quickly in old wrapping paper with a boy messily slapped on the top. Stiles smiled at it none the less and stuck the bow on top of his head. Derek snorted, to which Stiles’ smile widened. 

Derek watched warily as Stiles pulled the canvas out from the wrapping paper, and once he realized what it was, he could see the boy’s fingers shaking. 

“I majored in Art,” he confessed. “I haven’t drawn in a while, but when you said your Dad and tradition and everything…”

Stiles stared down at the very intricate and detailed drawing of his mother and clutched it close to his chest. He set it to his side carefully before launching at Derek in a hug. Derek was stunned at first, but hugged back after a moment. Stiles was shaking. 

The bow had fallen off during launch, and the other werewolves were all silent, watching the exchange with small smiles on their faces. 

When Stiles finally pulled back, sniffling and looking guilty for practically attacking the alpha, Derek just smiled and said, “Merry Christmas, Stiles.” 


	12. Angel

Stiles’ mother always told him he had an angel watching over him. Especially around Christmas time, and most definitely every time they placed the topper on the tree, ironically shaped like an angel. 

He never thought she was serious. 

“You’re my angel,” he said, voice filled with shock, his body still. Derek was rigid at his side. 

The girl standing in front of them scoffed. “No shit Sherlock. Didn’t your mother tell you over 300 times?”

Stiles blinked. “Well yes. But I didn’t think she was serious.”

His angel rolled her eyes. “Your mother used to be one of us,” she explained, shocking Stiles even more. “She chose to live a life on Earth, so she was granted a life, though it would have to end prematurely due to the many years she spent as an angel. So she was born a new, only with the thought that angels were real and watching every move.” She eyed Derek. “Every move.”

Stiles never thought he’d see the werewolf so nervous before. He looked at him confused. “What does she mean?”

“Nothing,” he said far too quickly. 

The angel laughed. “Oh Der, silly silly wolf.”

“Shut. Up.” he growled, and she held her hands up in a surrender. 

“A’ight, I can dig. Anyways, the only reason I’m even here is to tell you that someone here has been using some dark magic and brought a demon to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles cursed. “Really? Right now? It’s four days until Christmas!”

“I have plans,” Derek muttered, staring at the ground.

The angel smirked. “Oh, I know dear, I know.”

Stiles could see it, the snarky spunky spirit that his mother had been all about personified in this angelic form. He resisted upon asking if all angels were the same. 

He sighed, instead, “Fine. We’ll deal with it. Thank you.”

“Oh, I’m not leaving. Derek, your angel is coming as well.”

Derek blanched at that. 

Suddenly, a man in bright white robs similar to the girl’s dress appeared next to her. He leaned close and kissed her cheek and took her hand. “Sorry I’m late babe, you fill them in?”

She giggled, leaning into him. “That I did. Both things.” Again she shot Derek a look. 

Stiles tried not to blush, thinking far too much about the fact that his and Derek’s angels were in a relationship.


	13. Silver and Gold

Stiles was finishing up placing the garland on the mantle as he hummed Christmas tunes along with the radio. Derek sauntered into the room, two glasses of cocoa in his hands. He passed one to Stiles and pecked his cheek, to which he was given a smile in return. 

Derek turned on the fire, and they cuddled up on the couch across from it, Derek’s arm slung across Stiles’ shoulders, slotting him against his side. 

_“On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… three french hens-“_

“They were all out of those, unfortunately,” Derek said against the shell of Stiles ear and he chuckled. 

_“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me… four calling birds-“_

“You talk plenty more then they would.”

“Hey!” Stiles said defensively, and Derek laughed, sliding a hand into his pocket. 

_“On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… five golden rings!”_

Derek pulled out the box and silenced Stiles with a kiss, placing their mugs on the coffee table so they wouldn’t spill. When he broke away, he held the box up and muttered, “It’s not five, but I think to will be sufficient, yes?” 

Stiles’ breath hitched and he stared with shock at the small red box. He swallowed thickly. “Can- can I-?”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek breathed, relieved. He opened the box and pulled out the smaller ring. Taking Stiles’ left hand, he slid the ringer onto his finger, murmuring, “It’s a perfect fit.”

Stiles leaned across to kiss him harshly, speaking against his lips when he pulled back enough, “Let’s see if yours does too.”

Stiles slid the silver and gold ring onto Derek’s fourth finger, a grin spreading across his face. 

“I know normally there is only one engagement ring,” Derek confessed. “But I’m anything if not traditional, and my parents both got one, so-“

Stiles kissed Derek again, a swift peck this time, before saying, “It’s perfect. Now everyone will stay away from you. You’re mine.”

Derek grinned at that, pulling Stiles’ closer. “And I thought I was territorial. You might be so more than me.”

Stiles smiled and rested his head on his  _fiance’s_ , damn, shoulder before responding. “You bet your sweet ass I am.” 


	14. Gift Wrapping

Derek had no idea how he got roped into doing this. Again. For the  _third year in a row, goddammit Erica_. 

Boxes were being piled in front of him accompanied by small smiles and some large, and a scowl here or there as shoppers came by. 

Derek had been set at the gift wrapping station at the Macy’s in the mall as a volunteer program thing that the pack did every year, each person doing something each year. 

The next person who asked Derek, “Do you take checks for a donation?” was getting their throat ripped out. 

Stiles collapsed into the seat next to him, shooting him an easy grin, his elf hat falling into his face. Derek’s heart didn’t skip a beat, nope. 

“Having fun?” he asked, during a lull in the crowd. Derek glared and Stiles laughed in response. 

“Oh come on, it’s for charity!”

Derek rolled his eyes, messing with a red bow given to those who donate a five or more. “Still sucks,” he grumbled. Stiles shook his head, smiling, a light blush tinting his cheeks which, huh, wonder why, Derek asked himself. 

“I’ll help. Erica is being preoccupied by Isaac who is having a small crisis about being Santa this year.”

Derek laughed, an honest to God laugh and Stiles’ grin widened.

For the next hour and a half, they sat there at the table, wrapping gifts for those too lazy to do it themselves. California, Derek thought bitterly. 

He couldn’t help but stare at Stiles a few times. He seemed to really enjoy being a part of the Christmas season.

Stiles caught his eye once and grinned as he slapped a bow onto the box wrapped in red paper sprinkled with tiny white snowflakes. He didn’t look long and went back to staring at his phone during the short breaks they were granted.

Derek frowned shortly, because at one point Stiles blushed darkly, eyes shooting over to Derek and then diverting very quickly, typing viciously across his keyboard. Derek huffed at that, brow crease deepening. 

Finally, Allison sauntered up to their table wearing her elf costume that matched Stiles’. “You guys ready for a lunch break?” She winked at Stiles who glared and stomped off. Derek blinked. 

“Uh. Did I do something?”

Allison stared after Stiles in shock. “Oh my God he was serious he really didn’t tell you yet…”

“Tell me what?” Derek growled. 

“Huh?” Allison looked back at Derek and her eyes widened. “W-Oh! Oh, nothing, never mind.”

“Allison, why is Stiles so fed up, and what does it have to do with me?”

Allison said nothing, looking like she wished the ground would swallow her up. He sighed and pushed past her and jogging in the direction he saw Stiles move. He found him standing in the small hallway between the dressing rooms and the bathrooms in the men’s department, glaring at the ground. When Derek entered his field of vision, he glared at him, which surprised him. 

“What did I do?” Derek asked, fed up. 

Instead of answering, Stiles stalked forward, cornering Derek against the wall and pulling him into a kiss. Derek sighed against his lips, the corners tugging up as he grasped Stiles’ cheeks and pulled him closer. 

Stiles broke it off with a surprised squeak and his jaw dropped in surprise. 

“Is that all?” Derek asked, breathless. “Because that’s no problem. You should do that again.”

Stiles made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and did just that. 


	15. Fireplace

It took a long time for Derek to truly become comfortable around fire again. The first time he was able to stomach staring at a fireplace was his final year living with Laura, when the winter was especially could and they had no excuse left not to use it. 

That didn’t mean when he saw Peter on fire it was any easier to see. 

A year later, Stiles insisted upon a pack bonding sleepover. Of course, Jackson, being the rich snob he is, decided it should be at his giant mansion which, you guessed it, had a nice fire pit out back. 

Derek pretended not to see the the side look of concern Stiles shot his way at the mention of it. 

Two weeks from Christmas, the pack was found in Jackson’s living room, reclining back on the sofas as they finished up dinner, before going outside to make s’mores. 

Stiles stopped Derek on the porch as the rest of the pack stepped out, all giggling and chattering with smiles. Stiles looked nervous. 

“Are… is this…?” He fumbled over his words, staring up at Derek with a creased brow. 

Derek gave him a short smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Stiles, it’s fine. If it wasn’t-“

“You wouldn’t have said anything and sit there in your usual silence while you stared anywhere but at the flames or a person directly?”

Wow. Derek never noticed, but Stiles knew him really well. 

In response, he shrugged and left Stiles staring after him as he took a seat next to Erica, who grinned at him with an eyebrow waggle before turning back to Boyd. Derek rolled his eyes and felt Stiles settle in next to him, a constant warm presence at his side. 

And though, yeah, Derek does still seem pretty nervous around fire most times, with someone next to him there to remind him it is harmless and it won’t hurt him… he felt better. 


	16. Winter Wonderland

The snow covered the ground in thick blankets. The windows were all frosted over, and you could see where small children had traced patterns onto the glass the days previous. Small flakes dusted over the window’s ledge. Past the window, people sat at tables, each nursing a warm drink, either alone or with a significant other. The employees all wore genuine smiles as they roved around the cafe, offering refills or pastries.

A booth in the corner was taken up by a couple, two men, one looking older than the other. His hands clutched his mug with a vice grip. The man across from him raised a hesitant hand and pressed it down over his, giving him a look, a look that said ‘you can trust me’.

It looked like the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders as he released a gust of air that could be seen in front of him, it was so chilly out. Yet, he was not dressed for the weather. His companion, however, was. 

Said companion moved their mugs to the other side of the table against the salt shakers and took both of the older man’s hands in his. He squeezed them and gave such a soft smile that there was only one thing he could really do. 

As assumed, the senior of the two surged forward, tugging the lapels of the other’s jacket forward and into a kiss. He shut his eyes in assumed bliss as the other man fell into it, gripping his long-sleeved tee shirt in retaliation. 

Across the cafe, a girl with strawberry colored hair was stifling her giggles with a hand covering her mouth, but she and her companion, a blonde haired guy looking around her age seemed to be the only two noticing the exchange. Said blondie rolled his eyes and went back to his coffee, but only to hide a satisfied smirk. 

The kissing pair finally broke apart, sharing a communal breath, lips brushing as hey did. The one in red recovered faster, surprisingly, grinning widely. But the other followed not too far behind. 

The door opened with a jingling of the bells above the door, snapping them out of their reverie as the burst of chilly air hit them. 

“Wanna get out of here?” The one asked, a hopeful expression obvious on his face. The other nodded in soft silence and allowed to be tugged out of the booth, throwing a ten onto the table to cover their cocoa. 

Some flurries escaped into the cafe this time as they dashed out the door into the cold of the evening. It wasn’t long before the older had the younger pushed against a wall and they were kissing once again. 

Snow fell around them, coating their hair and shoulders, yet neither of them shivered, far too caught up in the warmth of the other. 

All around the, people went on with their day, hardly paying attention to the young new couple across the sidewalk, feet melting the snow beneath them for standing (read: making out) in one place for so long. 

Snow coated the sidewalk, and even when they finally left, there was still a dent in the coating where they had been. 

Outside that day, it truly was a winter wonderland. 


	17. Ribbons and Bows

Derek slammed closed the door to his and Stiles’ apartment and sagged against it, sighing sharply. He and Stiles had that morning gone to the city orphanage to talk to them about adopting a child. Stiles had been so excited about it, wanting a little girl or boy to care for as their own and Derek had to say he was just as ecstatic. 

Once they made their claim, they were immediately shut out, the caretaker not believing a gay couple was stable enough to take care of one of their children. They tried protesting, but they wouldn’t budge. 

Derek had to go into work that afternoon, hating leaving Stiles after seeing his broken look. Stiles protested, however showing him out the door, saying they would figure something out, it would be fine, go to work, I’ll see you later, I love you. 

Derek was finally getting home, well after dinner time feeling like a complete and utter failure as a husband. He shed off his jacket, dusted with the flakes from the softly falling snow outside. He kicked off his shoes as he made the walk down to his bedroom. When he opened the door, he certainly wasn’t expecting what he saw. 

“What do you think?” Stiles asked with a smirk, holding out his arms, not even feeling any kind of self preservation. Derek choked on air and shut the bedroom door so fast he was surprised his hand didn’t get caught. 

“Stiles…” he said warily, throat suddenly tight. “What’s this about?”

Stiles was grinning, the exact opposite of what he looked like a few hours ago when Derek left. “Well, I was doing some research.” Derek scoffed, but Stiles surged on. “Turns out, the orphanage cannot deny us a child. So I went back there and talked to the actual caretaker, the man we talked to was his assistant. He told me that we could come back tomorrow and look through some profiles.” Stiles inched up to Derek, and Derek finally let his eyes wander over the tight spedo-like boxer briefs that Stiles wore, and a matching red bow sling across his chest. Which was _all_ he wore. He swallowed thickly. 

Stiles grabbed onto his tie and pulled him close, breathing against the shell of Derek’s ear, “Let’s get with the love making. That’s the first step to having a kid, right?”

Derek shuddered, not able to repress it. “Shit. Fuck- yes, Stiles, yes.”

He practically launched Stiles onto their bed which caused the man to laugh, gripping the sheets beneath him. “Wanna unwrap me?” he asked seductively. 

Derek was pulled in bu an invisible force, falling on top of Stiles, bracketing him against the mattress. He trailed his teeth down his neck, stubble scratching at his skin. He dragged his teeth over a hard nipple and Stiles’ arched up, and it was Derek’s turn to smirk. He bit at the ribbon, and undid it’s tie, pulling it free from Stiles’ body. He took it in his hands instead and used it to secure Stiles’ arms to the headboard. 

“Oh-oh bondage, yes, that sounds good, mhmm, ah-!” Derek had licked a stripe right down the the happy trail that disappeared beneath Stiles’ bottoms that, yeah, they needed to go. Stiles shuddered as Derek gripped him outside of the cloth.

“You, too many, clothes, off,  _now_ ,” Stiles demanded, and Derek obliged to it all. 

The only thing Derek knew was he was never going to be able to wrap presents without sprouting a boner now.  _Dammit_  Stiles. 


	18. Gingerbread

Derek’s pack was literally made up of 17-year old children who had forced him into building a gingerbread house with him. They went by the excuse that it was a Christmas tradition, but Derek somewhat doubted that. 

Stiles was working meticulously on the icing piping along the roof when Derek snuck up behind him and laced his arms around the man’s waist. Stiles hummed, leaning back into the embrace. “Come to help, Mr. Alpha? Those gumdrops aren’t going to be placed themselves.”

Derek muttered something against his neck where he was nosing along, his stubble scraping across Stiles’ shoulder blades. Stiles definitely didn’t shudder at its sensation. “Not decorating a gingerbread house, Stiles, I’m not five.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, neither am I, and if you want to get laid tonight you better start placing those little candies. Or glue the pretzels on as windows with that icing over there,” he said, nodding his head over to where another bowl of icing sat. 

Derek sighed and moved towards the salty sticks, staring at them like they betrayed him as he began arranging them in a way that would vaguely resemble a window. 

“Where is everyone else?” Stiles asked after another minute, craning his neck to look into the living room where he saw a few of the werewolves earlier. 

“They all snuck out the back for food like ten minutes ago,” Derek said, tongue slightly peaking out between his lips as he arranged the sticks on the gingerbread walls.

Stiles threw his hand sup and made a dramatic show of sighing. “This is supposed to be a pack activity, emphasis on  _pack_!” 

Derek chuckled, pulling Stiles flush against him. “We could always change this into a little bit of Stiles and Derek time until they get back?”

Stiles swallowed thickly and nodded quickly. “Who cares about the gingerbread, the rest of them can finish it when they get back.”

He grabbed hold of Derek’s arm and dragged him up the steps towards Derek’s  bedroom, and Derek couldn’t help but laugh. 


	19. Family + Christmas Tree

Christmas was always a favorite past time for the Hales. They always went out and bought a fresh tree and took one night where the entire family gathered together to decorate it. Hot chocolate was passed around (though they didn’t need the warmth) and laughter filled the room. Kids played and begged for early gifts and parents said ‘no’ but everyone was smiling anyway. 

Thinking back on it now, Derek could see the same scene unfolding before his very eyes, years and years after the fire ruined all of those memories. 

His pack, his  _family_ , sat in front of the roaring fireplace, the flames’ lights flickering in the glass bulbs on the tree, the adults holding half-empty glasses of wine and the kids sitting still as they watched the ‘It’s Christmas, Charlie Brown!’ special on television. All but one boy, who’s ADHD made him just like his daddy. 

His father couldn’t have pictured a better Christmas Eve except for his first. 

Derek wrapped his arms tighter around Stiles who smiled into his neck, watching their son try to sit still. Lydia’s daughter, a year and a half their son’s senior laughed and taunted him, but even the scolding from Jackson couldn’t hide the blush that sprouted on the little boy’s cheeks. 

“Like father like son, hm Derek?” Stiles murmured, looking up at his husband. 

Derek chuckled and pecked his lips. “Somewhat.”

Stiles settled into his side once again and the warm body pressed against him reminded him that this was all his. And he felt oddly content, more so than he ever had. 

At the end of the evening, goodbyes were said and he parents all huddled together for a hug, mumbling ‘Merry Christmas’s to each other with smiles. 

All in all, Derek couldn’t have asked for a better family. 


	20. Candlelight

As if the weather was attuned to the loud decibels ringing around the now still room, a large gust of wind blew outside, scattering flurries about, and promptly knocking the power out. 

Stiles sighed, throat hoarse from shouting as he moved slowly into the kitchen where they kept the flashlights. Derek stared after him, eyes wide. 

Stiles had never shouted at him like that,  _ever_. In the four years they had been together (actually together, Derek demanded they wait until Stiles’ graduated, just to be safe around his dad), Stiles had never been this angry over something Derek did or how he acted. 

Stiles was currently in his final semester of college, and he already had a job set up when he graduated, at a school outside of the city. They were financially stable and would be for a long while, even if Derek doesn’t find any odd jobs to do. They were engaged, and had been since the end of Stiles’ sophomore year, but getting married was tough work, especially when one is in school.

Unfortunately, for Derek, if that was what the fight had been about, it could have been solved easily. 

Stiles had found his way to the cupboard and started unloading candles and matches to place in the rooms. Every time he lit one, Derek flinched for just half a second. He had gotten over his fear of fire, but the sight still hurt. 

Stiles brushed past him, more silent than he ever had been. A candle in each hand, he placed one in the kitchen, two in the living room, one on the bedroom, and the last in the bathroom. 

Stiles hesitated after, but that gave Derek enough time to jump in and grab his wrist, catching his attention. 

“What, Derek?” Stiles said, voice resigned. 

Derek whined in the back of his throat. “I… I don’t want- I hate who I am and what has happened to me and I hate that it’s hard for me to get over. And I’m sorry you’re the one being punished by this.”

Stiles sighed and ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes, where, belatedly, Derek noticed a few streaks of tears. His heart clenched. 

“I hate how even six years later, you’re still as emotionally constipated as you were when I was in high school. But I don’t hate you or think I made the wrong choice about choosing to spend my life with you. It’s what I want, and you have to realize that, but this is something I want too.”

Derek’s shoulders sagged. Stiles continued. “Is it so wrong to want a family?”

“No, no, it’s not, it’s just-” Derek sucked in a breath, “- _hard_  to bring new people into my life.”

Stiles smiled weakly, leading Derek over to the couch. “I know. But this is different, so different. This isn’t just some random person, this is a part of you, of us. Derek I want this, you know I do.

“I love you Derek, and I won’t love anyone more, but is it wrong to want to love someone else just as much? Someone who is _from_ us?”

Derek sat in silence, staring at his hands, still holding one of Stiles’. His shoulders shook in silent sobs. 

“Do you think I’d be a good father?” he asked breathily. 

Stiles’ smile widened and hugged Derek tight. “I think you’d be an excellent father.”

The couple sat there, tangled together in an embrace, the only light coming from the candle sitting to their right on the table. 

“If- If you want to find a surrogat instead of adoption… you should be the father,” Derek said, nuzzling Stiles’ ear. 

“Really?”

Derek nodded. “The child will be just as much mine, but I don’t want them to be born with the werewolf gene and end up hating me for it.”

Stiles kissed his fiance softly. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”


	21. Snowman

As much as Stiles loved snow, California just didn’t have enough of it. At least, in Beacon Hills there wasn’t enough. It always came down in thin flakes, covering the ground, enough for the temperatures to drop enough to gain delays and the rare snow day. 

And it was never thick enough to make a snowman out of, unfortunately. 

That never stopped Stiles, though. 

Stiles was dragging Derek down his street towards the park, an earsplitting grin breaking across his face. Derek grumbled his annoyances, but kept his fingers laced with his boyfriend’s. 

Stiles stopped them in front of a bench and announced his piece of art with a flourish of arms and a loud, “Ta-da!”

Derek looked from the short and small snowman, to stiles, then back to the snowman, saying, "It’s, like, a foot tall, Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I can  _see_  that, Derek.”

Derek narrowed his eyes, and lowered his head to inspect the snow creation even closer. “What are it’s arms made of, and isn’t it’s nose supposed to be a carrot?”

Stiles scoffed, sitting gently down next to his creation, dusting off a few flakes from the top, as if brushing some stray wood shavings from a newly sanded piece of wood. “The arms are some old wire I found in a drawer in my kitchen. And we were all out of baby carrots because someone-cough-Isaac-cough-is far too much in love with eating me out of house and home.” He shrugged. “So I found some pebbles for the eyes and his nose is made of a pop can tab.”

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, “He has no mouth.”

Stiles threw his arms up, exasperated. “Does nothing impress you?”

Derek smirked. “Not really. But…” he drawled, a smile tugging at his lips, “It is a creative snowman.” He held his hand out. “C’mon, let’s head back home. We can pick up the rest of the pack and come show them your ridiculous snowman too, if you want.”

Stiles grinned, tugging on Derek’s hand began dragging him back down the street, the alpha laughing as he followed reluctantly. 


	22. Eggnog

Derek could smell the eggnog and alcohol even before Stiles waddled up to his porch and knocked messily on the door. “Hey- hey sourwolf!”

Derek rolled his eyes and opened the door, only to have a handful of a giggling Stiles, The boy was holding a bottle of the rancid drink, half empty. Stiles held it up like a trophy, chest planting straight against Derek’s. “I have Christmas in a bo-bottle,” he said before erupting into another fit of giggles. 

Derek groaned before dragging the limp boy over to the couch. Stiles was slurring, but Derek couldn’t even make out what he was saying with his insane hearing. Stiles collapsed against the couch, and before the bottle could collapse against him and spill all over and possibly break, Derek plucked it out of his fingers and set it aside.

Derek crossed his arms and stared at the teen with a calculating look. “Stiles.”

“Derek!”

Derek counted to ten, took a deep breath, then tried again. “Stiles. Why. Are you. Drunk?”

Stiles grinned, snuggling into the pillows that littered the new couch. “Your couch is comfy. Can I stay here forever?”

Derek glared and crouched down in front of Stiles. “Why did you come here?”

Stiles slurred, “Dad’s workin’. Empty house. Bored and a-” he hiccuped, “Alone is sad. You’re alone too, so,” he held his hands up, “I am here! Love me!”

“Not in this state I’m not,” Derek grumbled, moving Stiles so that he was sitting up. “You can stay the night, but I’m calling Scott to have him cover for you, alright?”

Stiles nodded, bottom lip worried between two teeth. “D-Derek!” he said, grasping the alpha’s sleeve when he stood to call Scott. 

Derek looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Eggnog is disgust… disgust… ‘ts gross,” he said, eyes drooping.

Derek sighed, but nodded. “It is. So I’m going to throw it away. Tomorrow morning, we’re talking about this ‘alone’ shit, alright?”

Stiles nodded, tugging Derek’s arm closer and snuggling up against it. “Kay.”

Derek groaned, resolved of the fact that he wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon with Stiles clinging to him the way he is. He reached into Stiles’ pocket and took his car keys, just in case. 

He shot off a quick text to Scott as he got settled in on the couch next to Stiles:

_To: Scott McCall_

_Stiles showed up at mine wasted. Cover for him. I’ll drop him off at your house at 11 tomorrow._

Derek couldn’t see, but Stiles’ smiled against his shoulder. 


	23. Silent Night

There was a heavy silence in the air, and nothing dared to disturb it’s peace. Sheriff Stilinski listened a moment more, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and though he knew it was late and his son was there, he didn’t think he would be asleep at this time.

He toed off his shoes at the door and hung up his coat. He took off his gun holster and locked it away for the night. 

In case Stiles was sleeping, he crept quietly up the stairs, sock-clad feet squeaking across the worn wood steps. 

As he approached his son’s room, he slowly eased open the cracked door. What he saw made him have to stifle the ‘aw’ that wanted to escape. 

Though it was something of a tense truce between the Stilinski men, Stiles and Derek were in a relationship now, and his dad was  _fine_  with it, really. It took a while to become used to it, but he had become used to the fact that this man was a large part of their lives now. 

The sheriff sometimes doubted how sincere Derek’s feelings were, but when he saw things like this, his inhibitions all flew out the window where the snowflakes fell in tandem. 

The couple were lying asleep on the bed, over top of the sheets. Thankfully, both of them were pretty much fully dressed, Derek wearing old sweats and a wife beater and Stiles in jeans and a t-shirt. 

Derek had one protective hand curled around Stiles’ wrist, and the other arm slung across his own chest. Their knees were tangled together, and it looked to Mr. Stilinski that before the last fell asleep, they were probably gazing lovingly at the other. 

He had a suspicion Derek fell asleep second.

He closed the door slowly, leaving it cracked open, and decided to leave them for the night. 

The house fell silent once again. 


	24. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klaine!Sterek Au! This was the most fun to write :)

Stiles’s kept a calculated look on Derek as he adjusted the lapels of his blue and red blazer. “So… is singing the only thing you’re good at?”

Derek smirked and quirked an eyebrow at Stiles as he moved around to flick on the radio, finding a station playing Christmas music. “No, but, it is less cause for injury. Dalton may be home to boys, but it’s also home to Alphas.” His eyes flashed red, but it was toyingly, and Stiles snickered. 

The tune switched and Stiles sighed, relaxing back against the red couch he was leaning up against. “I love this song. Sing it with me?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, “I don’t think-“

“ _I really can’t stay_ ,” interjected Stiles, his melodic voice carrying over the singers on the old radio.

“ _Baby it’s cold outside_ ,” Derek sung back, reluctantly, not wanting to leave Stiles hanging. 

Stiles moved up to him and nudged his shoulder. “ _I gotta go away_.”

“ _Baby it’s cold outside._ ”

“ _This evening has been_ -“

Derek smirked. “ _Been hoping that you’d drop by_.”

Stiles didn’t blush, no he did not. “- _So very nice_.”

Derek stood in front of Stiles and took his hands in his, locking eyes with the younger as he sang, “ _I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice_.”

Stiles had a hard time staying on pitch, or even remembering the words with Derek staring at him like that. “ _My m-mother will start to worry._ ”

Derek, dragging him by his hands, brought them both over to the front of the couch where he encouraged Stiles’ to sit down. “ _Beautiful what’s your hurry?_ ”

Stiles tried to get up, but his foot slipped out from under him and he barked out a laugh before chuckling over his next words. “ _My father will be pacing the floor._ ”

Derek pointed dramatically to the mantle above the fireplace as he sand with a hand flourish, “ _Listen to the fireplace roar_.”

Stiles scooted over to the far edge of the couch, as far from Derek as he could be, messing with him as he sang innocently, “ _So really I better scurry_.”

“ _Beautiful please don’t hurry_ ,” Derek breathed more than sang, sitting next to Stiles, creeping slowly back up next to him. 

Stiles’ eyes were once again locked with Derek’s as they came closer together, an encouraging smile tinting his lips. “ _Well maybe just… a half a drink more_.”

Derek was pressed up next to Stiles now, his breath catching in his throat. “ _Put some records on while I_ -“

The rest of the lyrics were lost to the two as Stiles surged forward on a bout of confidence and kissed them off of Derek’s lips. Derek froze, stunned at first, but slowly melted into the touch, bringing up a hand to cup Stiles’ cheek and pull him that much closer.

Stiles broke it off, foreheads pressed together, both of the panting slightly. 

“ _I wish I knew how to break the spell_.”

“ _Your eyes are like starlight now_.”

They sang together, back in time with the music, and then laughed together in tandem. Derek took Stiles’ hand in his again, but this time intertwined their fingers. Stiles stared down at their hands with a small smile on his face. 

“I…” Stiles started, eyes flickering over to the clock. “I should probably go.”

“Oh, but baby, it’s cold outside,” Derek retorted, grinning.

Stiles snorted. “Now that was cheesy.”

Derek raised a brow. “More cheesy than singing to Christmas carols like we’re in a musical?”

Stiles shrugged. “Probably not.”

Derek kissed the smug look off of his face.


End file.
